Is it in my Bones?
by hellenisticbeast
Summary: Leeza is a homeless girl with a want for a family and a strange power working for the FBI. On a trip to Forks Washington she gets a mysterious and fatal illness. Will the Cullens be able to cure her illness and her past? Or will Leeza get a family?
1. Chapter 1

"No openings even for a janitorial position?" I clarified with the director of something or other at the Jeffersonian. "Nothing?"  
"I'm sorry no." he gave me a sympathetic look.  
"Stop that man!" a guard yelled suddenly, pointing at a man maneuvering in and out of the crowd.  
I was after him like a shot. My tall, thin frame faster than the runner's and I jumped, tackling him and pinning him to the ground.  
"Cuff him," someone ordered, tossing a pair of cuffs on the ground. Grabbing them, I grabbed the offenders wrists and clicked them into the cuffs before hopping up.  
"Thanks."  
I turned to see a tall man in a standard FBI suit. "Your welcome." I muttered embarrassed.  
By the way he was looking at me I could almost see myself in his eyes. A five nine teenage girl with long blonde hair and a thin face with a pointed chin, high cheek bones and deep set blue eyes. The girl who could have any guy she wants. But add in my ratty clothes covered in a couple layers of grim, and the dirt in my hair, I was knocked down from high school cheerleader material to homeless chick.  
"Hey, you were looking for a job right?" he asked. "I'm Agent Booth with the FBI-"  
"Wait," I held up my hands and snorted. "You're offering me a job with the FBI, with out even knowing who I am, while I can't get a job at cleaning floors at McDonald's because I might be a criminal?"  
"Are you a criminal?"  
"No."  
"Well then, I need an assistant. Can you come buy the J Edgar Hoover building tomorrow around three?"  
"Uh, sure. Thank you." It sounded more of a question than an actually thank you.  
I headed out of the building feeling oddly confused.

"Um, I'm here to see Agent Booth," I told a guard at the desk of the J Edgar Hoover building.  
"What's your name?"  
"It doesn't matter because he doesn't know my name."  
"He's up in Dr. Sweets' office on the fifth floor," the guard informed me after making a call. "Go on up." he tossed me a visitors pass.  
Ignoring the stares of the well dressed people in the elevator I disembarked gratefully at the fifth floor.  
"Uh, Agent Booth?" I rapped lightly on the door frame of the door way marked 'Dr. Lance Sweets'  
"Sorry Sweets I gotta run," Agent Booth said, glancing over his shoulder at me. "I have a job interview."  
"You scheduled an interview during our session?" the man (who I assumed was Lance Sweets) demanded. He ran his hand through curly brown black hair. "Who is she?"  
"Uh," Booth looked at me for help.  
"Leeza. Leeza Heartwood," I offered up. "Or Aleesha if you prefer. I didn't know the FBI psychoanalyze their agents and...." I looked at the lady. "A forensic anthropologist from the Jeffersonian."  
"How did you.... It doesn't matter."  
"Agent Booth, if you're thinking of hiring her as your assistant maybe Dr. Brennan should be in on the interview," Dr. Sweets suggested.  
"I really don't think I need to be here. I have to get back to the lab," Dr. Brennan assured him, getting up and brushing past me into the hall.  
"Yeah. Have to find out if Dr. Hodgins identified those particulates? Could give you the place of the murder because the body obviously wasn't killed where it was duped. The postmortem dislocation of the shoulders is congruent with being dragged," I called after her. "Victim is female, Caucasian, late teens. She's given birth. Georgia Willard."  
Brennan spun around. "How do you know that? That is classified information."  
"The way I know that is the reason I was kicked out of nine foster homes and eventually ran away. People are afraid of me because I can see their past, and things they're trying to hide."  
"That's scientifically impossible," she protested.  
"Yeah, but it's the reason Agent Booth is going to give me the job."

**I love Seeley Booth! Review please! I'd love to know how I could improve!!!! **

**3 Leena**


	2. Chapter 2

The wolf of a wind blew like a wolf ran, it's icy teeth biting into my clothes and piercing skin as I ran with it trying to get inside quickly. I didn't want to be late for my first day.  
Dancing inside the Hoover building I flashed the guard the id Booth had given me before heading to the elevator. Someone's phone rang playing the song Replay. I suppressed a giggle and began working a dance to it in my head while the embarrassed lady rummaged for the phone in her purse.  
"Were you running?" Dr. Sweets asked me as we exited the elevator, I hadn't noticed him.  
"Huh? Oh yeah. It's like a three mile run to get here." I shrugged.  
"It's forty degrees outside!" he exclaimed shocked.  
"Yes...?" I asked, my voice holding that annoying 'your point?' tone. He simply shook his head and walked off.  
I chuckled. It was evident that he was still mildly in shock that I could see his past. Yesterday to prove my point I had to read his, Booth and Brennan's history, which all included either the child services care system or abuse. Nice to know I had something in common with these people.  
As soon as I walked into Booth's office a manila folder was chucked at me head, forcing me to snatch it out of the air.  
"Read that," he instructed me. "We're interrogating her ex later."  
"Okay, but you know, I can only see someones past if their trying hard not to hide it correct? So just because you hired me, doesn't mean everything gets automatically easier."  
As me reading the file doesn't provide very interesting, I'll tell you a bit of my story.  
I was found left in a hotel room by a maid when I was six months old. My parents had left my birth certificate, but crossed off the last name. They had also provided false records for the hotel, so no one ever found them. I chose the name Heartwood. Growing up in the system makes you tough. You don't get babied or even cared for for that matter. Jesse was the only on ever kind to me, teaching me how to fight and get what I needed. I was shipped from foster home to foster home, never staying anywhere longer than six months. As soon as the couple found out about my 'gift' I was gone. Three out of nine of these homes were abusive. At the age of fourteen I had given up all hope and finally ran away, like Jesse had a few years earlier.  
This of course is a rough outline of my life. Facts that I can bare to release. Facts that leave only slight scars. Who am I you ask?  
I am the girl who loves to dance.  
I am the girl who never steals unless she hasn't eaten for three days.  
I am the girl with the reputation as such a kick ass fighter that everyone except the worst avoid me.  
I am the girl who sneaks books from libraries only to return them when she's done.  
I am the girl who wants nothing more than a family.

The trailer park where the victims ex lived was quiet. In front of some trailers there were brightly colored potted flowers and pinwheels whirring in the wind. Near others were empty beer cans and other litter. A little girl was playing with a hula hoop, but stopped and stared with big eyes as we pulled up.  
"Hey, where does Todd Hamilton live?" Booth called to her, but afraid she ran away.  
"You scared her!" I scolded.  
"How?"  
"You're the police. She's obviously had a relative taken away by them. Let me." I rounded the corner of a trailer and found the child. "Hey sweetie," I said, smiling reassuringly and crouching down to her level. "Do you know a Mr. Hamilton?"  
She nodded and pointed to one of the trailers surrounded by litter.  
"Okay, thank you." I stood up and backed away. "He lives here," I relayed jerking my head at the mobile home.  
No one answered when Booth knocked on the door, and even less when he yelled that he was FBI. I crept around the side, looking for anything. The file I had read indicated that the murder weapon had been a small blade with a nick. After rummaging through the garbage bin I found a small red pocket knife with a nick in the bade.  
"Hey Booth!" I tossed it to him as I rounded back to the front. "Judging from the dried blood on the blade and the lack of activity in the house but presence of a car, I'd say that's the murder weapon and the suspect is hiding in the bathroom."

Can you say 'case closed'?


	3. Chapter 3

"You want me to go to therapy?" I demanded, looking up from a file I was reading.  
"No, the FBI wants you to go to therapy," Booth corrected. "They think that since you ran away from the system and lived on streets you might have...." he hesitated.  
"Unresolved issues?" I volunteered, my eyes skimming over his expression. "Fine. When?"  
"Uh," he glanced at his watch. "Now."  
"You couldn't give me a three minute leeway to get over there?" I grouched, standing up and slamming the folder to the chair.

Sweets and I were having a stare down. He was giving me the signature concerned/analyzing psychiatrist look and I was giving him the wide blue eye expecting/bored/pissed off look.  
"Are you going to say something or should I leave?" I asked sweetly, not moving my gaze from his brown eyes.  
"What do you like to do?" he questioned suddenly, nearly catching me off guard.  
"Dance," I replied. Then after a moments consideration, "and read."  
"If you could do anything what would it be?"  
"I'd get a medical degree and start up a free clinic or be an astronomer."  
"What do you want most?"  
"What everyone wants no matter how much they hide it: a family."  
He considered me a moment longer, eyes piercing into me. "You dance?"  
"Yes..."  
"You know what I learned from those three questions?"  
"Enlighten me."  
"You have to express past pain, and dance is the easiest way. You pretend you don't care about the world around you, you don't see, but you do see the sickness and poverty. And you're a kind and sensitive human being."  
"And the reading?"  
"You like to learn. The thing you miss the most is school. How old are you?"  
"Past the point of no return, nineteen. How old are you?"  
"What does it matter if I'm young?" Sweets demanded in exasperation. "Does it have anything to say about my intelligence?"  
I raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Since the frontal lobe is normally fully developed by the age of seventeen or eighteen no, nothing to do with intelligence. I was simply wondering." There was another long silence before I finally asked, "Do _you_ think I have issues?"  
"Do you do drugs?"  
"No!"  
"Steal?"  
"Only if I haven't eaten in three or four days."  
"Kill people?" This time I could see the spark of good humor in his eyes.  
I rolled my eyes. "Very funny."  
I itched to see what he had been through. When I had last looked at his past, it was the recent history, just what he did, who he was. As soon I had considered it, the idea shocked me. I always avoided using my power and here I was wanting to delve into the past of a near stranger.  
"I was in the system too," Sweets admitted. "When I was young I was taken out of my father's care and adopted by an older couple." Normally, I would have snapped about how he was just trying to get me to talk, but I had the feeling that he also needed to talk.  
"The system is crap," I muttered. "You're lucky you got someone kind. A third of the foster homes I were in had at least six foster kids and the people who were suppose to take care of us were abusive." A memory came to me, causing me to shudder inwardly and push it back. Somethings were better left unearthed.


	4. Chapter 4

As Dr. Brennan worked with Booth, I spent a lot of time at the Jeffersonian over the next month or so, helping out Angela or Hodgins, or simply just flirting with the interns when Booth didn't have any assisting things for me to do. My job with him mainly consisted of interrogating people, observing their homes and their actions as Booth and Brennan interrogated them, and catching the people who ran. But hey, it payed minimum wage and I soon got use to eating every night.  
Are you wondering where I sleep? Where I keep my things? Where I "live"? Well, I sleep in an abandoned building, third floor, northwest corner. I keep all my things in an old gray backpack which during the day resides behind the bar of the Royal Diner. There, now can we move on?

"Okay, now set this over there for me," Angela directed. I was sitting in her office, helping her place tissue markers. Gingerly, I picked up the skull and set it very carefully down on the 'x' in front of the scanner. In their free time, the squints at the Jeffersonian cataloged John and Jane Does, so by hanging around so much I was learning quite a lot.  
"Is that the time?" I asked, looking up at a wall clock.  
"Yeah. Why?"  
"I have to go get interrogated by Sweets," I muttered in reply, heading for the door. "See ya later."  
"You like him don't you?" There was a slight smile on Angela's face.  
"No! He's like four years older than me!" I protested.  
"You said you were nineteen," she laughed, catching my lie.  
"I lied. Now I have to go."  
My face was flaming as I exited Angela's office, and it only got worse when she called after me, "You like him!"

"Did you feel abandoned when Jesse left?" Sweets asked.  
I shrugged. "I suppose I always knew he was going to leave eventually. Everyone always did."  
"But her was like your mentor or your protector. He taught you how to fight but kept you safe anyway."  
"And in return he would make me steal things for him," I admitted softly. "Beer or anything else he wanted from a gas station or grocery store. I had to steal since I could do it better."  
"Did he ever hurt you?"  
"No! Never!" I exclaimed, infuriated at the very notion. "The only people who have ever hurt me are those three foster families." I hesitated, then pushed up my sleeves, letting him see the many horizontal scars on my outer arm. "They cut me when I quote-unquote 'misbehaved'. The other family beat me and the other," I shuddered and instinctively brought my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms tight around me. "I don't want to remember, much less talk about it." I felt irritable all of the sudden. "Can I leave now?"

On the way back 'home' I stopped while passing the ballet studio. Girls my age were in a pointe class, dancing in front of a mirror to a lady's instructions. Josh Groban's 'You Raise me up' was trickling through the glass ever so quietly. Tears of envy filled my eyes and spilled onto my face. Angrily I brushed them away and turned to continue my trudge.  
"You don't wanna be like those stuck up twits Leeza!" A boy who I recognized from the home called from where he was leaning against a wall.  
"What if I do?" I snapped, brushing past him.  
"Na, you don't. Can I bum a cigarette?" he fell into my fast stride.  
"I don't smoke." I ran my hand through my hair and turned to face him. "What do you want Ralph?"  
"I want what everyone wants baby, you." His eyes ran over me. "I hear you're pretty flexible."  
My face began to burn with anger. "You want to know how flexible I am?" I kicked my foot into the side of his face. "Now," I readjusted my backpack. "Leave me alone." Suddenly, I collapsed, my leg giving out from underneath me. Ralph just laughed and walked away as I struggled to my feet and hurried home.

The next morning Booth handed me a small rectangular envelope.  
"What's this?" I asked, looking inside.  
"Go get your stuff. We have a case in Washington, and we're leaving in half an hour."


	5. Chapter 5

The airport was bustling with business people, soldiers, and just weekend travelers. I waited next to Dr. Brennan against the wall as Booth checked us in. (The FBI had gotten papers allowing me to travel though I had no passport.)  
"What's in your backpack?" Booth demanded before we went through security.  
"A change of clothes, fifty bucks, an old copy of the _Times _and pencil," I announced, rummaging through.  
"Why do you have a pencil?" Brennan asked as we walked through security.  
"Some old lady just gave it to me along with the Times today and I thought I might want to do the crossword puzzle," I shrugged as I dumped my bag and shoes into the bin for the x-ray machine. "I've learned that if they're harmless, always except things from insane people. Keep 'em happy."

Though I had never been on an airplane before, I slept the whole way, my head resting against the window. It was odd to sleep in comfort again. I woke up to a pain in my right calf, the same one that had given out the day before. Groaning, I bent down to rub it assuming a pulled muscle.  
Glancing out the window I noticed we had landed in Seattle and were pulling up to the gate. People were waking, shifting and stretching, standing up to fill the aisles and get out quickly. Booth was still asleep.  
"Booth!" I whispered, elbowing him. "Wake up!"  
"Huh?" he jerked out of sleep. "Oh. Here. Right."

Brennan - having flown first class - was waiting for us at the gate as we stumbled off of the plane.  
"Where are the remains?" she asked as we headed toward the car rental/baggage claim.  
"Forks Washington. The Seattle police forensics collected them and transferred them to the hospital there. They also collected soil samples, what ever clothing was left and took high res pics," Booth added before Brennan could protest.  
It was midnight before we reached Forks, so Dr. Brennan agreed to wait until morning to examine the remains, reluctantly, but relented none the less. We checked into the motel and I quickly fell asleep despite the pain in my leg.

The hospital was near empty the next morning aside from a nurse at the front desk and a young mother and her baby waiting.  
"Room 106," the nurse sighed in a tired voice, inferring who were from Booth's suit I suppose.  
As we walked, my wet braid swung, leaving a water mark on my shirt.  
The remains were male. They lay on the table mostly decomposed, looking as if they had oozed there. Soil samples sat clustered together in containers like a flock of nervous sheep. Wrist watch, unidentifiable clothing item, wallet, camera. All the personal effects in bags on top of the photo prints.  
"We need to clean the bones," Brennan stated the second she saw them, pulling on gloves.  
"How?" Agent Booth demanded. "We're in backwater Washington with no lab of any kind."  
"Um suggestion," I piped up. "Find someone who sells flesh eating beetles. Let them eat the remaining tissue, then send back to the lab for a tox screen and so Hodgins can do what he needs to." Booth's phone was at his ear already.  
"Yeah, find me some one who sells flesh eating beetles in the Forks Washington area and contact the Seattle PD to see who found the body." We were on our way.

At the end of the day, this is what we knew:  
Victim- Aaron Johaan  
Age- 19  
Cause of death- Bludgeoning  
Alcohol level- high  
Girl Friend- Hanna Lynn Tucker  
People victim had argued with prior to death- Greg Abernathy, Rachel Talbot, Emmett Cullen

***gasp* NO! Not Emmett!  
Please review!  
3 Leena**


	6. Chapter 6

Over the next few days we learned that the victim had been bludgeoned with maple (Hodgins informed us) and confirmed that the body had been decomposing for two weeks. It also became apparent that none of the suspects were in town, having left for the long weekend. I spent much of my time wandering the town, dancing to music in my head and whatever else drifted out of store fronts. There wasn't much to see in Forks, mainly trees. My leg continued to ache, a dull pulsing ache that is easily pushed to the back of the mind, but it seemed to grow worse.  
On Monday it resumed raining suddenly, and I dashed back to the hospital, running through the odd mixture of sleet, snow and rain. Booth and Brennan were both in the car, waiting for me.  
"Dr. Cullen is Emmett Cullen's guardian," Booth informed me. "He says that we'll have to follow him because his house is hard to find."  
"Dr Cullen?" I asked, buckling my seat belt as we pulled out of the parking lot following an expensive looking black Mercedes.  
"He was out for the weekend and just came back this morning," Brennan informed me. "You were out."  
I didn't say anything. Though he hadn't said anything, I knew that Booth had only brought me along because he felt sorry for me. He and Brennan could easily handle this on by themselves. Leaning my head against the cool window I watched the town fade away behind us and the trees encroach upon the road as we drove north. A tree would approach slowly, then smear into the rest as it got into my peripheral vision. After about thirty minutes, the Mercedes disappeared into the trees as it turned onto a drive that was barely discernible in the gloom.  
The house was more a mansion than a house. Three stories, white, and a Victorian design it sat in the middle of a large clearing next to the river.  
A pain shot through my leg as I was climbing out of the car and I fell, splayed out on the wet pine needles and grass. "Damn," I muttered softly, picking my self up and trying to rub out the terrible pain. After a moment my muscle relaxed and I went around to the front of the car where Brennan and Booth were talking softly to a man.  
The first thing I noticed was how very pale he was. I mean, most people in this town were pale, but this was albino white. He had blond hair and eyes that were a strange gold and flicked over to me as soon as I came around.  
"Ah, you must be Leeza," he held out his hand. "I'm Carlisle."  
"Pleasure to meet you," I returned, shaking his weirdly cold hand. It was difficult to block the past that seemed to scream from him, but I did. It was Emmett I had to look at.

_**Carlisle's POV:**_

As I was talking to Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan I heard a sharp intake of breath, a thud and a damn. After a few minutes, a girl came around the side of the SUV. She was about Rosalie's height with a long golden braid slung over one shoulder. A face with a pointed chin, high cheek bones and deep set blue eyes made her scream model almost more than Rose. I even began to wonder if she was anorexic given how slim she was.  
"Ah," I said. "You must be Leeza. I'm Carlisle." she shook my hand and mumbled something about how it was a pleasure to meet me. The look on her face told me she was either in pain, concentrating quite hard, or both.

"Emmett," I called to him as I entered the house with the visitors in tow. Emmett was sitting on the couch flipping through tv channels. "Someone's here to see you."  
I went over to where Esme was at the table and kissed her on the head in greeting before turning my attention back to the FBI.  
Leeza had a strange expression on her face as she studied Emmett, a look that hovered between fear and perplexion. She seemed to be oblivious to what Agent Booth was saying. Her eyes flicked to Alice for a moment. The fear on her face grew stronger as she looked at everyone- Rose, Jasper, Edward, Esme, then me. Her breath was too quick and Edward and Jasper were sharing a shocked look.  
"Leeza," Jasper said in a calming voice approaching her. "Calm down." Everyone was watching the girl by now.  
"No," she exclaimed in a breathy voice. "You're- you're-" Suddenly, she gave a small scream and collapsed as her right knee buckled.  
"Are you okay?" Booth asked in a concerned voice, picking her back up. But it was to no avail, she simply fell back down again.  
"No," she shook her head fervently. "My leg hurts really badly, and it won't-" but she stopped. Stopped talking and more importantly started seizing. I rushed over to her as her limbs splayed out, holding her head. Then, her heart stopped.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Leeza's POV:**_

When I woke up it felt like someone had dug a pick axe into my head and chest. Disoriented, I looked around. A monitor with heart rate, blood pressure, and Oxygen level. An iv bag with a tube trailing down to a needle in my left elbow. A pulse/bp clip thing on my left pointer finger. Looking down at my self I noticed a hospital gown, the kind that's more like a robe that wraps around you.  
_What happened?_ I wondered, grimacing and rubbing my head.  
"Ah, good. You're awake." Carlisle appeared in the doorway and everything came flooding back, causing me to give a small shriek and shrink away. "I'm not going to hurt you," he chuckled. "Edward told me you figured out what we are." he adjusted the valve on the iv.  
"Wh- what happened to me?" I asked in a shaky voice. "The last thing I remember is my leg hurting and I couldn't stand up."  
"You had a seizure," he informed me. "Then you're heart stopped. If you don't mind me asking how did you know?" he pulled out a small flashlight and shone in in my eyes before marking something on a clipboard.  
"I can see the pasts of people," I muttered, turning my head and trying to block out my own. "That's why Agent Booth hired me, so when I saw your son's..." I trailed off and shuddered again. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have reacted the way I did but, I have memories that I try to push back." I wiped a tear from my cheek and turned back to face him. "So when can I leave and get back to the case."  
"Well," Carlisle sighed. "I don't actually know what's wrong with you. You're leg isn't hurting right now because I have you on painkillers, but that combined with a seizure and heart failure... you're going to have to stay awhile. You're probably going to be transferred to a larger hospital with MRIs and CAT scans."  
I eyed him suspiciously. "What are you hiding? I know that girl, Alice, can see the future. What does she know?"  
"What are you hiding?" he shot back.  
"Nine foster homes and child abuse."  
That mellowed him. "Oh, sorry. Alice didn't see anything about you." with that he turned and left the room.  
Booth came in a few minutes later. "How are you feeling?" he asked, settling into the plastic chair by the bed.  
"Like crap. How's the case going? How long have I been unconscious?"  
"About a day. Bones found cuts on the skeleton congruent with a blade with a nick."  
"Did you just use the word 'congruent'?" I chuckled. "Someones been spending to much time with the squints."  
"It doesn't matter. I'm waiting for a warrant to search Rachel Talbot's home. She's still out of town. When do you get out of here?"  
I shrugged. "What did she and the victim argue about?"  
"He wouldn't leave his girlfriend for her," Booth replied. "What do you mean you don't know when you're being discharged?"  
"Dr. Cullen doesn't know what's wrong with me. He wants me transferred to a larger, better equipped hospital." I rolled my eyes. "I'm fine." At least, I hoped I was. My stomach growled.  
"Oh, that reminds me," Booth said. "I brought you a sandwich. Club." he pulled the rolling table over my bed and plopped a paper wrapped sandwich on it. Food.

_**Carlisle's POV**_

I was agitated. Giving a small growl I slammed shut the thick encyclopedia of diseases I had been reading. Nothing fit Leeza's case.  
"Are you okay?" Esme asked, poking her head out of her office, brow furrowed.  
"It's just- I can't find what's wrong with Leeza, I don't want Alice's vision to come true."  
"Oh," Esme sighed. "You can't save everyone Carlisle, sometimes it's just a persons time."  
"But everyone deserves a life, and I don't think this girl has had much of one. She told me she's been in nine foster homes, some with child abuse, and I would suppose she's been attacked by a vampire the way she acts."  
Esme laughed. "You don't think she was just reacting the way a normal person would?"  
"No, I don't. And I intend to find out why."_**  
**_


	8. Chapter 8

"How's Leeza doing?" I asked the nurse at the front desk as I entered. The nurse is tired from working the night shift, and her nose is buried in a magazine.  
"Hm? Oh, she was throwing up all night. I think she's asleep now though."  
I stopped as I entered Leeza's room to check on her. She was asleep, a small rag doll clutched in one hand and her face terribly pale. She looked so vulnerable, more like a small child than an eighteen year old girl.

Later, I was seeing an older woman who was complaining of flu symptoms when Dr. Brennan opened the door.  
"Leeza's in cardiac arrest," she blurted.  
I rushed out of the room, slowly for me, and got to Leeza's room where the nurse had a crash cart. "Push 5 ccs of epinephrine," I ordered, grabbing a stethoscope and listened to Leeza's lungs. "Pulmonary normal," I sighed, stepping back as her heart rate got back to normal. What was wrong with her?

_**Leeza**_

Pain, excruciating pain. Then relief. Carlisle was standing over me, and a nurse, and Brennan.  
"Cardiac arrest or anaphylactic shock?" I asked, in a hoarse voice.  
"What?" Dr. Cullen seemed occupied, thinking about something else.  
"You gave me epinephrine," I replied.  
"It was cardiac arrest," he said and seemed tired. "Now just go back to sleep, your body needs rest."

But I couldn't. After he and the nurse left, Brennan stayed, sitting in the chair in a odd moment of compassion.  
"Am I going to die?" I asked, softly. "He's hiding something from me, I can tell."  
"You're not going to die," Brennan laughed.  
"How goes the case?"  
"The warrant came through to search Rachel Talbot's house, but there was nothing there. According to her neighbor, she's coming back tomorrow."  
"The girlfriend did it," I mumbled sleepily.  
"Go back to sleep," was all Brennan said before standing up and leaving the room.

I woke one morning (or afternoon) to Booth shaking me gently.  
"You were right," he said. "It was the girlfriend. But I thought you didn't see anything."  
"I've been known to be wrong," I smiled weakly and rolled onto my back. "Are you going back to DC now?" the question hurt to ask. I didn't want to be alone.  
"We have another case." There was a look in Booth's eyes. Regret? No, sympathy and guilt. "I hate to leave you-"  
I cut him off. "I'll be fine. When I'm better I'll come back."  
After he left, I cried softly into my pillow before falling back asleep.

As it happened, I didn't get better. I lost weight quickly as no food would stay in my stomach, more cardiac arrest with an unknown cause and, according to Carlisle, several absent seizures which I didn't remember. Once my throat closed up, and he had to cut my trachea to get air into my lungs. My leg muscles were pretty much nonexistent. I was dying and I knew it.

**Sorry it has been a few days. I've been busy with school and theater. Also, sorry this is so short. Please review!**

** 3 Leena  
**


	9. Chapter 9

A day or two after Brennan and Booth left, Jasper Cullen and I had a stare down.  
He appeared in the doorway looking rather like an emo who has run out of make up and proceeded to give me a critisizing, analyzing stare. I stared back with all the energy I could muster.  
"It's not polite to stare less you think I'm a wax figure," I told him. "And if you think I'm a wax figure, you ought to pay to stare."  
He shrugged. "Fair enough." and began rummaging in his wallet. I laughed for what seemed the first time since I had been admitted to the hospital. Grinning, he sat down in the chair and tossed another weird carb-bar at me. "Carlisle said to give you that. And make sure you eat it since I'm going to be here."  
I groaned and tore open the package. "They're all I've eaten for the past two days. They each have, like, a thousand calories and taste like cardboard. Why are you here?" I asked through a mouthful. I mean, I didn't even know the guy. "Here to mess with my emotions and make me rejoice in the fact that I'm wasting away?"  
"Uh, not unless you want me too...."  
"Not particularly no." I grimaced as I took another bite of the carb-bar. "Doesn't pasta have a lot of carbs?"  
"I think so. And to answer your question I'm here because you interest me."  
"Why?"  
"Because of the emotions you felt when you walked into our house," Jasper said.  
"What did I feel? I don't remember much."  
"At first, you nearly bowled me over with jealously." I turned my head as a blush spread over my cheeks. "Can I ask why you were jealous?"  
I shrugged. "I could feel how much you all care for each other. You don't know how lucky you are to care about someone, and to have someone to care about you."  
"Ah, anyway, then when you looked at Emmet you were perplexed at first, then scared out of your mind. The kind of fear that normally sends people fainting." Jasper gave me another analyzing stare. "Why?"  
"Because I just found out there were vampires in the world," I lied.  
"You're lying," he accused.  
"Am not. Don't you have leave now before the man who cut himself with a knife comes in?" I hissed. Jasper simply smiled and stood up.  
"You're lying."  
"Am not!" I called as he hurried down the hall.

**Esme's POV**

When this girl had walked into out house with the FBI, the first thing I noticed was that she was tough. But now as she lay in a restless sleep in the hospital, a rag doll clutched in one had, she seemed like anything could hurt her. Leeza's skin was pale in a sallow kind of way and I could tell she had lost extreme amounts of weight. Suddenly, as I watched her, she began to thrash in her sleep, jerking her arm in a way that threatened to make the iv come out of her wrist.  
"Leeza," I murmured, going to her side and smoothing back her hair from her forehead. "Wake up."  
Her eyes flew open and were the color of forget-me-nots as she recoiled from me, fearful.  
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," I reassured softly as I sat in the chair. "You were just having a bad dream."  
"The one I always have." she nodded and relaxed a bit, then winced. According to Carlisle, he had taken her off the morphine as he pain dissapated, but she had lied. "Not to be rude or anything, but are you all stalking me?" There was a mixture of seriousness and humor in her voice.  
"We're curious," I admitted, figuring she'd get the truth anyway.  
"Hm," she considered me, then shrugged, struggling to sit up as her hand fumbled for the hair tie at the end of her braid. It was to no avail, Leeza fell back against the pillows, lacking the strength to sit up.  
"I'll re do it for you," I voulunteered. "Turn on your side." She did, facing away from me. "You look a lot like Rosalie," I commented as I grabbed a brush from the table and began to pull it through her silky hair.  
"Your daughter?" Leeza asked softly, a tone in her voice I couldn't identify.  
"I consider her that yes. What-?" The neck of her gown had fallen back revealing a crescent shaped scar, just like the one Bella had on her hand. "Oh."


End file.
